


Regret

by ficsandcatsandficsandcats



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23993443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsandcatsandficsandcats/pseuds/ficsandcatsandficsandcats
Summary: Reader Request: Jaskier is broken-hearted after his latest muse leaves him. Reader goes to comfort him and they up sleeping together. Reader thinks it’s just a rebound but Jaskier actually has feelings for her.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Kudos: 16





	Regret

You lay in the bed back to back, awake but pretending you weren’t.

_Oh gods, it’s over._

The tenuous grip you’d had on your feelings for Jaskier had been lost, the victim of a night of impulse. You’d seen the signs all evening. He’d been vulnerable, hurt after the loss of his most recent muse. You’d been there for him as you always were and some part of you, some selfish, ugly part that you would never forgive, felt that you deserve the kiss he pressed against your lips as he walked you to your door. You were the one who pulled him back up when they shot him down. Why should they hoard his kisses with no respect for the treasures they were? Why shouldn’t you let him in your room, knowing what it would mean?

Because it changed everything.

Because there would be no coming back from this.

———-

Jaskier clutched the blanket in his hands, fidgeting with the slightly fraying edge of the hem.

_It finally happened._

It hadn’t gone as he’d hoped it would. He wanted to sweep you off your feet, not fall into your arms in despair. But it had happened and there was no going back. He would tell you everything. The way the women he’d been with had been a distraction, trying to suffocate his feelings for you with other company. Calling them muses when every word he wrote and every tune he played was a tribute to you. He’d known what he was doing when he sought you out. He’d hoped, desperately, that when you let him in your room he would find the words to tell you what he felt. But, muse though you were, you didn’t inspire words that night. But your name was on his tongue and fingertips and every inch of his body that he hungrily coupled with yours. Today he would use his words, though. He would turn to you and he would tell you everything. It was what you deserved.

———-

He deserved better. He deserved someone who would be honest with him. And you deserved more. You could tell yourself that you would be ok with something casual but that way lay madness. You weren’t entirely certain you hadn’t already crossed that line. There was something about the way you clung to each other the night before. The way your nails scraped into his flesh, the way his hands clutched your throat, the way both of you seemed to fall into each other. It was depraved and it was vicious and it was… _fucking_ perfect.

But it was over now.

The harsh light of day cast a light on the consequences of your actions. There was no more hiding.

You knew he was awake. You’d heard his breathing shift, could feel his arm moving slightly as he played with something. He was nervous. Probably trying to figure out how to extract himself or, god, worried because he felt obligated to give you some pretense of affection. That would ruin the memory you would look back on for the rest of your life where it would feed a flame that would never fully be extinguished. You took a deep breath and then you set him free.

“ **Leave. Before we wake up regretting what we’ve done**.”

———-

Jaskier had been poisoned. He’d been stabbed. He’d nearly died a thousand times. Nothing hurt more than the words that pierced his heart. He’d been so certain that even if you didn’t share the depth of his love that you weren’t unfeeling. That there was some part of you that cared for him. At the very least he didn’t expect you to be cruel. Not another in a long line of people who accepted his love and dismissed the rest of him. Never enough. He could write all the songs and play all the parts and tease pleasure from any body, any way they desired, and yet, when it was all said and done, there was something lacking. He thought it was different with you.

He rose, fighting to ignore the trembling of his fingers as he pulled on the trousers and undershirt that had been thrown to the ground the night before. Hours ago he’d been inside of you, closer to you than he’d ever been before and now he was being exiled. He didn’t dare ask if you wanted him back. Even he would not beg for that little favor. If you wanted him gone, he would go. Because at the end of the day, with all those he loved, he wanted them to be happy. If that meant sacrificing his own happiness, so be it.

Maybe next time it would be different.

Maybe next time he would be enough.

He left the room without a word, the click of the door a soft death knell for a part of you that neither would ever know existed in the hearts of the other.


End file.
